EDITED to put the safety info at the top.

If domestic violence or abuse touches your life in any way, please visit https://www.canada.ca/en/public-health/services/health-promotion/stop-family-violence/services.html for a list of Canada-wide resources.

For Canadian emergency shelters and resources, please visit https://sheltersafe.ca 

Many other countries make similar resources available.  Make sure to cover your tracks, if necessary, by using “private browsing” when you search.

There are a few social media “friends” I've been keeping, just so I can see the rage-baitey things people who don't stop to question the source or investigate the truth post.  They never fail to disappoint – although, manage to disappoint on a deeper level, for sure.  And this Olympic season has been a doozie – still, they haven't seemed to learn, even after their earlier posts start to disappear.

I've been surprised in recent days, though, by the number of OTHER people who have posted a (completely falsified) meme and story about a shooting medallist who (again, falsified) took up shooting only after a heated argument with his ex-wife, and then “stood emotionless” on the podium saying “Sharon, if you're watching this, I want my dog back” (AGAIN, COMPLETELY FALSIFIED).

I've been surprised and disheartened by the number of people who have posted it, and the number of people who laughed at it.  But most surprised and disheartened by the number of people who, once women (and some men, thankfully) started pointing out about how this glorified abuse against women, argued with us about it.  Including one who told me “I didn't read anywhere that his wife was being abused in the relationship.”

Um… really…????

You don't think that the THREAT OF GUN VIOLENCE for NOT GETTING HIS OWN WAY was just a teensy bit on the abusive side?!?!?!?!?  Would you have waited until her blood was splattered before thinking there might be a problem?!?!?  (Keep in mind, this person was definitely a mutual friend of my abusive ex #2, and I'm pretty sure of #3 as well.)

To anyone confused:  THREATENING VIOLENCE IS ABUSIVE.
Not just gun violence, any violence.  (Or, for that matter, threats about taking pets or property.)

Perhaps it's how this timing coincides with my recent health problems – I've quipped to many friends recently that it's no surprise my throat is now trying to kill me, after all I've forced it to swallow and stay silent about – but I'm done with shutting up about this bullshit.  My throat has something to tell you.

Femicide is an epidemic, a rapidly-growing epidemic, and one our Ontario government refuses to acknowledge.  From November, 2022 to November 2023, there were 62 (known) femicides in Ontario alone – well over one per week.  As of June 30, we are already at 35 for the current year.

To anyone confused:  these women were never murdered UNTIL THEY WERE MURDERED.  Many of them, though, probably received veiled or not-so-veiled threats before they were murdered.

To the “why don't they just leave?” crowd:
THE TIME A WOMAN TRIES TO LEAVE IS STATISTICALLY
THEIR MOST LIKELY TIME TO GET MURDERED.

Am I shouting?  Sorry, my long-silenced throat seems to be taking over.  Actually, I'm not sorry.  Sucking it up and staying silent doesn't actually help anyone any more.  FOR ME, NOW – there are PLENTY of reasons why women in the thick of this, or who have recently escaped do very much need to stay silent.  Don't you dare judge them for doing whatever it takes to not become another femicide statistic.

But DO know that every time you make a joke like that meme about the Olympic shooter, those women are watching.

DO take a moment to consider the message your share or “joke” sends.

DO consider how normalized threatening a woman with violence is – even for those like the above social media friends who usually present themselves as more feminist-leaning, as demonstrated by the interchanges of the last few days.

DO consider that every time you joke about, or minimize, violence against women, those women you know who are trying to navigate out of a desperate and dangerous situation are becoming increasingly clear on who is safe or not safe in their world – and you, my “friend”, are decidedly in the NOT safe category.

There are many in my own world who are incredulous that I never told them about the abuse I was enduring “under their nose”.  Well, darlings, those jokes and memes are a huge reason why you were never in the position of confidante.  The eye rolls when I did speak out about treatment of other women were, as well.

When you minimize or deny another's pain or terror, you dehumanize them.  When you then sing the praises of a person's abuser, you make it clear that their victim's safety, well-being, and humanity are less important to you than the abuser's ego.  YOU ARE PARTICIPATING IN THE ABUSE, by confirming the victim's lack of worth in the world, leaving them in silent shame with no safe person to turn to.

And yes, my throat is probably rebelling now because I stayed silent for too long.  And the fact that I almost became one of those statistics in a (failed, thankfully) murder-suicide attempt is due, in some part (SOME part – sure as hell not all or even most) to my years of silence before that.  But I had nobody safe close by to talk to.  By the time of that failed attempt on my life, I had already moved us to Barrie, so I could be closer to some of my safe people.  Many of those, however, were declared “not our kind of people”, and driven away, with our social circles being filled once more by those who thought he was the bees knees.

For years before that, though, I was subject to “just” threats – things you couldn't call the police about, couldn't convince people like the social media “friends” above was actual abuse.  Looking back, I can see the dehumanizing began early – whenever his sentences began with “we”, he was referring to him and his ex-wife, whenever they began with “I”, he was referring to things we'd done together (including our duo concerts and tours).  My house, which I'd bought alone (paid taxes & insurance on alone, etc.), and he'd moved into rent-free was even referred to as his house in conversation – up to one point when a bunch of people were taken aback when he invited me and some other performers back to his house after a concert (I needed an invitation to go home???)  They may have been taken aback, they may have raised eyebrows, but it was quickly forgotten – those friends have also maintained loyalty to him, so I'm guessing it either didn't register, or they didn't care.

Then there were all the times when he'd punch walls or slam cupboards or “accidentally” slam the door in my face (if I said “hey”, he'd do it a second time, just to prove how accident-prone he could be).  The wall-punching would occasionally be very close to my head, but no cuts, no bruises – no abuse?

He was disabused (sorry/not sorry for the pun) of this myth after one particularly horrid night, when our couples therapist (who, until that point, I think believed the “she's just never happy with me”, he-said / she-said narrative) pointed out to him that punching a wall beside someone's head – or indeed, punching the wall at all when “arguing” with someone – leaves the other person insecure about if / when that punch's target will change.  “But I would never…”  “She doesn't know that, based on your behaviour in the moment.”

Not wanting to look like the bad guy, he did, indeed, stop punching the walls behind me.  He was, in fact, so good at not punching the walls behind me, that he would ball his hands into fists, make it clear that he WANTED to punch the wall, but then dramatically sigh and unclench his fists to show me what a good boy he was, all full of self-control.  No cuts, no bruises, no wall-punching… no abuse?

My own therapist and I started to put together a safety plan over three years before that murder-suicide attempt (for those doing the math, yes, I also bought our “dream home” during that time – another bit of my magical thinking that defies understanding, even my own…).  An exit plan was also prepared, but then he got sick, and I didn't want to look like the bad guy.  (Should have just been the bad guy, but when everyone around you appears to buy into the “worthless” vs “bees knees”, it's difficult to get up the nerve – especially when you've already endured that whole Karpman Triangle scenario when speaking up about your father's abuse, your first husband's abuse, and your second husband's abuse, and seen how “well” that went…)

The exit plan didn't get revitalized until after that morning on a country road, when my yet-to-be-ex made a split-second decision to end it all for both of us, because my breathing had apparently changed in a way that made him decide I was angry with him (keep in mind his hearing loss wouldn't allow him to hear me speaking at a low volume, and the radio was blaring as we were driving down to therapy, so my supposed breathing pattern was, of course, a fictional justification made up after the fact).

Part of the exit plan / safety plan included smiling and nodding my head when he explained to friends that he was “letting” me drive, since I didn't like his driving (understatement of the century – not to mention, his own therapist sent a note to our family doctor saying he was unfit to be behind the wheel, thus legally preventing him from driving).  Even then, part of my silence was because I didn't want him to be embarrassed – not just because things didn't usually go well for me when he was embarrassed (another understatement), but because I, too, cared more for his ego than for my own safety and well-being.  At that point, the ONLY reason why I stuck to the safety plan was because my therapist had indicated I should, so I could fall back on that if any of our mutual friends disagreed.

They may not have overtly disagreed, but a later instance when a member of my “safety team”, who had provided me with a key so I could use their home as a “safe house” if I was ever in trouble, neglected to inform me that my ex was staying there for a week and would have greeted me there – if not when I ran to the house in fear after hearing he was in town again, then for sure at an event I was to be attending there – showed quite clearly that they didn't “agree” with my need for safety, or his own health team's assessment of his mental stability and consequence to my aforementioned safety.  (Needless to say, they were struck off the safety team, as I struggled with my “over-the-top” need for safety and my “trust issues” with the remainder of the team…)  Once again, your actions and attitudes speak volumes, and make it very clear to an abused woman whether her safety and well-being is important – to you, personally, or to the world in general.

My throat and I would also like to make it very clear to all that I continue to follow the safety plan, and have employed several methods to make my own house a “safe house” over the last seven years, as well as gather a network of other safe places and safe people.

When I advised his health care team that I was getting out, his social worker called to give me several tips and tricks ("because I see this a lot"), and warn me that this hypervigilance would be “a forever thing” (LOL – she obviously hadn't met me!), because you never know what in the future could make him “snap” and make me a target again.  (Something I already knew all-too-well after this one incident early in our relationship when a friend had the “audacity” to help us chop garlic at a dinner party – somehow he'd decided it was because she thought he was stupid, and wanted to humiliate him, and whenever he remembered that in the decade-plus afterwards, he would become filled with uncontrollable rage, and could not be talked down.  I learned not to try, and not to chop garlic – which, considering my weird C-PTS symptom of vegetable-chopping making me cranky, was easy to explain away.  He now lives in the same city as this friend, and I often wonder if she has any clue how much her friendly gesture enraged him, or if they've even kept in touch, let alone shared a dinner party again.)  Every year since, as I feel my nervous system prepare for the “anniversary”, I give thanks to that social worker and all the others who have helped me make this happen.  (I would also heartily recommend the book Splitting by Bill Eddy & Randi Kreger to anyone facing a similar situation.)

My throat would like to keep going, but I'm already anticipating both the vulnerability hangover and increased hypervigilance (hyper-hypervigilance?) to come, and would like to get back to the point.  Or points.

1. Domestic violence is not funny.
2. Threats of violence ARE abuse, even if there's no follow-through.
3. Threats of violence with a common instrument of death are DEFINITELY abuse – no ifs, ands or buts, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.  THEY ARE ALSO NOT FUNNY.
4. If you are making or sharing jokes about domestic violence, YOU ARE PARTICIPATING IN IT, as well as perpetuating it.  Please stop making abused women feel even more worthless than they're already feeling.
5. Do not minimize abuse just because there is no bleeding or bruising.  Do not wait until there is obvious bleeding or bruising (or worse) to acknowledge that someone is being mistreated.  BELIEVE THEM, ask them what the safest way you can help might be – if they don't know, then contact your local Women's Shelter to help figure it out.  (DO NOT try to be a hero and go in like a bull in a china shop, you'll likely make things worse.)

Okay, hang on, I'm going to break out of list-making for a sec, because that last bit is REALLY IMPORTANT.

ABSOLUTELY DO NOT TRY TO SAVE THE DAY, unless you are professionally trained in such things.  FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, DO NOT PRESSURE ANYONE TO ESCAPE WITHOUT A SUPPORT TEAM AND SAFETY PLAN IN PLACE.  As mentioned above, the moment a woman tries to leave an abusive situation is often the point at which her life is in the most danger.

DO NOT BE A “HERO”
leave this to trained professionals

You can search for Canadian shelters near you at https://sheltersafe.ca – they also have a number of other resources available for those experiencing domestic and gender-based violence (physical, emotional and spiritual), as do most individual shelters.

When I was finally able to admit to myself that my second marriage was abusive, I made probably 23 hang-up calls to the local women's shelter before I finally was able to find my voice and tell the person on the other end of the line that “I think I'm being abused”.  I think I had visions of a swat team flying in and everything changing in an instant.

It didn't – and there's a very good reason for that.  (Did I mention that the moment a woman tries to leave an abusive partner is the time at which she's most likely to be murdered by that abusive partner?)

Instead, I was encouraged to make a “dentist appointment”, and meet with a social worker in a nearby (but not too nearby) town.  There, we started on a safety plan, tailor-made to my personal situation at the time.  I got connected with several resources and supports.  I believe it was about five months between that first meeting and the time he was out of my house.  Several more before he was out of the country and I could breathe again (I lived in a small village then, with the closest police station about a half hour away – if he had “snapped”, they'd never have gotten there in time, and cops are notoriously lousy at dealing with domestic violence situations, anyhow.  My previous silence, of course, had left the neighbours believing it was just a he-said / she-said situation, so I had no reason to believe they'd recognize I was in any danger from that ol' sweet-talker.)

This most recent time (dare I say “last”?), it was a question of years.  In part, my silence kept me safe.  In part, it was just a symptom of magical thinking.  With enough therapy, he'd see the light and want to stop abusing me, right?  (I mean, it worked so well with my family… LOL)

🎶  And you will note 🎶
🎶 There's a lump in my throat 🎶
🎶 When I think of that wonderful guy 🎶

Sorry, sister, that lump in your throat is trying to tell you something.  Please pay attention.  (And see your doctor.)

It's taken me a long time to get to the point where I'm not hoping for an abusive person to see the light and consider me worthy of not being abused.  It's taken me finally seeing that I ALREADY AM worthy of not being abused, no matter what others might think.

But lordy lordy lord, seeing people joke about and/or minimize domestic violence sure as hell ruins a good chunk of a Saturday.

DO BETTER.

Your jokes, your normalization and minimization of abuse – be it physical, emotional, or spiritual – send a VERY LOUD message.  To current victims.  To future victims.  To those who are led to believe it's okay to victimize others.

Femicide is an epidemic, whether our political leaders choose to acknowledge it or not.  Whether you take its victims seriously or not.  Please, stop participating in and perpetuating abuse against women.  Do better.